Trevor was about the same age as Mike, give or take a year, with a worn green hoodie and a shit eating smirk. He seemed surprised that anyone had answered at all this time. Harvey gave him a once over, though he didn't need Mike hovering behind him to remind him who he was about to meet.

"Can I help you?"

"Hi, yeah – sorry, I didn't think anyone was in-"

"If you thought no one was here, why bother knocking?" Harvey cut him off, his tone betraying a stern, already irritated temperament. "What do you want?"

The standoffish tone seemed to take Trevor a little off guard, but he still continued, pulling his hands out of his pockets as he tried to sell his story. As he spoke, Mike slowly stepped out from behind Harvey, watching as Trevor lied through his teeth.

"I used to know the guy who lived here before you-"

"Mike."

That definitely took him by surprise.

"You know Mike?"

"You could say that. What about him?"

"Well, this is kind of awkward…can I come in?"

"No."

"…Okay…well, before he, ah…moved away, he used to let me store my stuff here – not a lot, just a box or two, in the attic. And I was wondering if maybe I could go up there, get it back? He sorta left me high and dry, didn't tell me he was skipping town."

He'd barely started his story when Mike began talking over him – of course, only Harvey was having trouble listening to Trevor over the tirade happening behind him. When Trevor briefly looked away, Harvey shot Mike a look, telling him to calm down or shut up – the TV was flickering violently, and the more Trevor stood there explaining himself with that damned smile, the closer Harvey's work came to being propelled into the air and scattered across the room.

It was clear as day that Harvey was being difficult on purpose, and although he didn't know exactly why, Trevor didn't give up yet. Instead, he opted to continue the small talk – because as awkward as this situation was, he was undeniably curious as to how this older man knew his ex-best friend.

"So…how do you know Mike anyway? You don't really strike me as the kind of guy he'd hang out with"

Sharing a look with the young ghost to his right, Harvey finally let a smirk through.

"I was his lawyer." After a beat, he pulled his arm away from where it'd been resting in the doorframe, and opened the door to let Trevor through.

"On second thought, come on in. We have some things to talk about, you can tell me about what you left here."

The sudden change of tone noticeably put Trevor's guard up, and Mike certainly wasn't pleased about having him inside the house again, but Harvey ignored the glares and the demands to explain himself as he led Trevor further into the room, letting him stand awkwardly in front of the stairs as Harvey leaned against the back of couch next to his housemate.

"So – Mike moved away? That's interesting...he never mentioned anything to me."

"Yeah, well – he's like that. Unpredictable, out for himself…look, uh – I don't wanna be rude, but I'd really like to get my stuff and go. You know, get out of your way and all."

"Fine by me. But, before you do – I just need a little clarification on something."

The longer he was in the house, the more anxious Trevor seemed to become. At his quick description of Mike he was unnerved to see the TV begin to really play up, flickering between colour and black and white, channels switching faster than the blink of an eye, the lights in the room beginning to follow suit.

"Your electric's pretty messed up…"

Ignoring his comment, Harvey glanced over at Mike. His arms were crossed loosely across his front, though his hands were gripped into tight fists, a lone fingernail continuing to scratch at the skin around his thumb as he fixed Harvey with a dark look. Giving his attention back to Trevor, Harvey moved his hand a little, giving Mike a subtle gesture that read 'bear with me'.

"You're sticking to the story that Mike just up and left, but it's funny…I heard something completely different to that."

"Oh..? And what's that?"

"That he died." Answered Harvey, his faux friendly act dropping completely now, eyes fixed on Trevor as the colour drained from his face, though he did a stellar job of acting innocent.

"What? No, he-"

"He, what?" Straightening up slowly, Harvey took a step towards the younger man, holding his gaze with practiced ease. Smirking nervously, Trevor took half a step back, scratching at his cheek as he shrugged.

"I've got no idea what you're talking about, man. I think you've got your facts twisted, you know – I talked to him just yesterday, sounded pretty alive to me."

"Oh, really? That's interesting, Trevor. It's fascinating, because I happen to know for a fact he was shot and killed, and I happen to know that the shit stain that did it was never caught. And that they just happen to be standing two feet in front of me."

There was a long pause after that. Mike had since dropped the glowering scowl he'd been wearing since the door opened and was now having a hard time deciding who to watch – Harvey wasn't smiling, but he somehow still managed to look pleased with himself. But Trevor…Trevor's expression was almost indescribable. He was torn between continuing to deny everything and telling Harvey he was crazy and leaving as quickly as possible, or admitting he'd been called out. In all the time Mike had known him, Trevor had been able to talk his way out of any situation – from the principal's office to his parents, he'd always been slick like that – or, perhaps a better word for it now, slippery. Manipulative.

Finally, he spoke up, his voice low, but the corners of his mouth pricking up ever so slightly.

"…Even if any of that was true, you can't prove anything, asshole."

"Maybe not. Not yet. But I'm more than willing to go out of my way to do so. Or, at the very least, make your life a living hell until you're rotting behind bars."

"And I'll sue you for harassment"

"I'm the best at what I do, you little shit – you want to play with me? I'll bite, and I'll win."

As the distance between them was closed just a little more, Trevor quickly side stepped away from Harvey, though he didn't get far as Harvey suddenly made a grab for him, slamming him into the wall and tightening his grip on his handful of T-Shirt, keeping Trevor pinned.

"Get the hell off of me, damned psycho-"

"Admit it, Trevor."

"You weren't his lawyer, that's bullshit, I've never seen you before - so who the fuck are you? Why the hell do you even give a shit?!"

"Admit it"

"Fuck you, man"

"Mike did nothing to you – nothing to warrant what you did-"

"You're kidding, right? He had it coming, he deserved it, the lying motherfucker fucking deserved it-"

This time it was Mike that reacted before Harvey, the coffee table suddenly flipping over, sending everything it had been holding shattering and falling to the floor, the picture in the television screen now nothing more than violently warping images as books were yanked from their places on shelves and the couch sliding across the room of its own accord. As the overhead light began to swing roughly from side to side, Harvey went to shoot Mike a warning look, but he was nowhere to be seen – only the effects of his anger remained in the room. As items began to literally fly through the air and hit opposite walls with vengeful force, Harvey made the decision to drag Trevor out of the room, opening the front door and pulling him close enough to mutter his final warning to him, though his words fell on deaf ears; Trevor was too terrified and mesmerized by what was happening in the other room to really give a crap about what he was being told. Without another word, Harvey practically shoved him out of the door, closing it quickly as he went back into the front room, doing his best to avoid flying debris as he tried searching for Mike again.

"Mike! Mike, give it a rest – he's gone, Trevor's gone. Mike?"

Narrowly missing an airborne manual, Harvey managed to make it to the kitchen, where the scene wasn't much better; the floor was littered in smashed plates and glasses, chairs were overturned and both taps running at full blast, on and off, alternating like clockwork. Whether he'd just missed him or he'd only just become visible again, Harvey quickly noticed the far corner of the room that was now occupied by the resident ghost, going over and kneeling in front of where he was sat, elbows resting on his knees and head in hands, fingers gripped tightly in his mess of hair.

"Mike! Listen to me, you need to stop this, right now. You're not helping anything – you're angry, I know you are, you're pissed as hell. I know I don't understand it, but you need to listen to me and calm down."

He didn't know if Mike could even hear him anymore, and had even less of an idea about what he should say to bring him back. He liked to think that if Mike were still alive the situation would have been easier to deal with – the closest thing Harvey could equate this to was a panic attack, if ghosts could even have them. Whatever was happening, he still reached out, placing his hands on Mike's shoulders, being careful so as not to let them fall through him. When his efforts continued to be ignored, he carefully moved his hands to both of Mike's, fingers slipping through the icy air and resting on either of his wrists where the sleeves of his hoodie had come down, exposing skin and, within a minute or so, allowing the same pin and needles effect to slowly bring Mike's head up.

"There you are…Trevor's gone, Mike. You can relax-"

"Did you hear what he said..? About me? About what happened?"

"Mike-"

"He didn't care! He didn't give a shit, he just…" his sentence trailed as one of the surviving plates smashed against the wall. "…He didn't care"

"Forget him, Mike – he doesn't deserve a second of anyone's time, least of all yours"

"You think I haven't tried?!"

"I think you're hanging onto your hatred for him because this is the closest you can get to feeling again. Mike, listen to me – you need to stop, this isn't helping anyone. Look – do you remember what I said to him? Come on, you've got the super memory, remind me what I told him I'd do to him"

"I don't know"

"Yes, you do, come on – think, Mike. Come on"

His mouth opened as though he was about to argue some more, but he soon found that shutting his wide, distressed eyes and forcing himself to focus on the previous conversation gradually began to calm him down. Slowly, the smashing of kitchenware and the banging of doors came to a stop.

"…You'd prove it was him. Make his life hell…"

"Damn right."

Taking a long, deep, simulated breath, Mike let himself open his eyes again. His wrists and hands were now tingling and beginning to feel warm to the touch, while Harvey's were growing painfully numb. Had it not been for the adverse effects on the other man, Mike wouldn't have pulled his arms away, letting Harvey get to his feet again.

"…How will you prove it?"

"I have my ways. Don't worry about that for now, alright?"

"Promise me."

"Mike, trust me-"

"I want him to burn." He interrupted, looking up at the lawyer with an expression as cold as the air around him.

"Whatever you do, however you do it - Promise me you'll make him burn."